Snowfall
by InzanityFirez
Summary: Bucky falls from a train, and wakes up to an old, familiar face. He's not dying alone, Steve's with him till the end of the line. Even if it's only an illusion, the feelings are real, and that's all that matters. A promise is a promise.


**So this is also posted in my **_**The Heart Never Forgets **_**one-shot series, but it was so dear to me and carefully worked upon that it's also now it's own one-shot. Bucky deserves it. ;-; There's a reference to long-sleeves and blackened eyes. It's long-sleeves to hide the bruises his father gave him, and blackened eyes that he's given others during fights. Just to clarify, that's the history I'm rolling with. I suppose you could think of the shadow as the darkness in his heart. **

**Summary: **_** Bucky falls. Bucky forgets. But not before he remembers. Heaven is an illusion of the mind. **_

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Bucky Barnes had felt a shadow on his shoulder all his life. He hid it well; in smiles and jokes, in long-sleeves and blackened eyes, in the sunny face of the only worthwhile thing he'd ever had. But it was always there, a waiting specter, a reminder of who he was and where he'd come from, and of the dark stain that lingered in his heart. One that no light could pierce, one that in his rare, quiet moments of introspection, he allowed himself to wonder about. He wondered if it would swallow him whole.

And then he remembered; he couldn't ever let that happen. Because there was someone more important to him than himself. Bucky recalled the blinding light of the existence he'd decided to devote himself to, the one that burned him even as it _saved _him. It was a light the shadow could never stand up to, it was the way Steve had always protected Bucky, although he'd never known it.

That is, until a certain woeful day deep in a vast, arctic wasteland. There, amidst the desolate, icy tundra, the shadow met Death.

And Winter was born.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Bucky Barnes was falling. _

He'd known it was coming the moment he'd been whipped out the train. His fingers, half-frozen, gripped the railing as the train roared along the tracks. He saw Steve's panicked face, his desperate attempt to reach him and Bucky tried to take that hand. But in his heart, he _knew_. The way he'd always known somehow when Steve was in trouble, the way he'd had a sense of a situation before he'd gotten to it, the way he could fire his gun in an instant and never miss his mark. There was a certain sense of stillness, an eerie calm, and despite the frantic beating of his heart and the desperate, agitated desire to live, there was acceptance. Not willing, but innate, because he was Bucky Barnes and Bucky was pragmatic to the end.

But he'd reached, almost as desperate to wipe that anguished look from Steve's face as he was not to die. He wanted to live. It wasn't that he had any grand plans, it was hard to think ahead to the future meaningfully when you were a soldier. When any minute could be your last, even a year seemed like a vast expanse of time to worry about. Bucky lived for the moment. A hard-won rest after a successful mission, that little nip off a bottle with a greasy burger in a dive joint with his team, Steve's stupid, blinding smile when Bucky stood by his side, the satisfaction that he had protected that smile and the goofy kid who'd smiled it.

For those little moments, Bucky ached. A raw hunger filled him, a lust for each of those fleeting moments, an insatiable curiosity for what came next in the pattern.

The railing broke, and Bucky screamed. It was a welling not just of fear, but of desperate frustration, of anger, of all that he'd left unfinished, of the fact that Steve was still on that damned training and getting farther away. They said your life flashed before your eyes, but all Bucky could see was Steve's miserable face. All he could hear was the roar of the train. All he could think of were regrets. Maybe that was the sum of his life. He reached towards the sky, an instinct to hold on overtaking the simple logic that there was nothing left to hold on to. He wondered if it would hurt, wondered what came next, wondered what Steve would do-

-_Bucky's body slammed into a ridge of the mountain before it slammed into the ground with a sickening crack. Blinding white filled his vision before everything went black._

Bucky's eyes opened, raw slits that granted blurred vision. He had been cold, and expected pain, but in that moment there was nothing. Bucky felt disconnected; or didn't feel, or couldn't; he wasn't sure. Dimly, he was aware of concepts like life and death, but he wasn't sure of either. That he existed at all was a backdrop in his mind in a haze of confusion and numbness. Broken thoughts flitted in and out of his mind.

_Dead...Steve...Fell...Mission...Cold...No...Stop..._

"You don't look too good, pal." A voice chimed, and familiarity pierced Bucky's haze as his eyes slid slightly over to the source. Steven Rogers as he'd been at about thirteen looked down at him in concern. His clothes were a little ragged, too-big shorts and a baggy shirt, and hand-me-down sneakers. Bucky wanted to remind him to bundle up, it was too cold for him to be outside-he'd get sick.

"Steve..."

But wait, Steve get sick any more. He was a super-soldier. Except that he wasn't, because he was here, and he was Bucky's Steve again...but wasn't he always?

"Bucky?" Steve queried in concern, head tilted with wide, worried eyes as he crouched down beside Bucky.

"M'fine." Bucky murmured, and he found the words felt thick as they bubbled from his lips. He tried to lift a hand to punch Steve's shoulder lightly in reassurance, but it didn't seem to want to move.

To an outsider, the scene looked very different. A pool of red quickly staining the snow, and a broken-up young soldier in the center. Bucky's left arm was gone, and when he 'spoke', his lips didn't move at all. He just made a choked sound in the back of his throat as he wheezed air out of his broken lungs. To an outsider, the soldier was completely alone.

Steve snorted lightly and pursed his lips. "You don't look fine...I told you to be more careful. You're too reckless."

"I'm never reckless...I'm amazing..." Bucky corrected with a thin smile. He felt that there was something he was supposed to remember, that there was some place he was supposed to be. But he was tired, and Steve was with him, so it could probably wait.

Steve rolled his eyes. "That's a word for it." Bucky coughed and Steve tilted his head. "You're getting sick, aren't you? I told you this would happen." Steve chided with fond exasperation.

"I never get sick...then who would take care of your scrawny butt?" Bucky laughed, and it still felt strange. He was starting to feel strange all over, actually. The hazy-numbness was feeling more and more like...nothing. The nagging feeling that some thing was off caught up to him as he tried to think.

To the outside, it would seem as though the man had just coughed and choked up blood.

_"This isn't payback, is it?" _

_"I had 'em on the ropes." _

_"Bucky!" _

_The railing broke, Bucky fell, and train roared off into the distance-stealing the light away. _

Bucky gasped as his chest constricted, and the pain nearly reached through the haze. His breath caught in his throat as blood bubbled on his lips.

But dimly, through the haze, he remembered. And he remembered what he _knew_.

"I'm dying." he whispered.

Steve's smile was sad as he said softly. "Yeah, you are, Buck."

"I don't wanna die."

"I don't want you to either." Steve whispered.

"You're not real." It occurred to him suddenly, and he stated the fact with painful simplicity.

"I'm real to you." Steve offered. "Isn't that okay this time?"

_The last time_.

Bucky spluttered as he gagged on his own blood, and he managed to tilt his head enough for it to dribble out slowly. His breaths were jagged and he wheezed.

"Better than nothin'." Bucky mumbled, and as he tilted his head, he vaguely caught sight of the red in the snow. Red meant...blood. He was bleeding. "My arm's gone." he noted, and then he cried. The tears wouldn't come so easily, but the increasing blur in his vision gave him some assurance they were there. Black lined the edges of said vision, and his sense of _knowing_ said time was running out.

When his eyes slid back to Steve, he was crying too, silent tears streaming down that baby-face. He wanted to wipe them away, but one arm was gone and the other wouldn't move. But Steve wasn't really there, so he couldn't have anyway, could he?

"Guess this is the end of the line, pal." Bucky grinned, or tried to. He was aware now that his face wouldn't respond, aware that the words he was speaking were more in his head than anything else. Maybe he wasn't really alive at all, maybe it was all a dream. Maybe he was already dead. But Steve was crying. That wasn't okay no matter what.

Steve smiled a little, and with a familiar sniff, shook his head. "Whatever comes next...we'll still be together, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bucky wondered vaguely if Steve really felt that way, or if this was what he wanted to hear. It didn't matter really, because as far as dying went, this wasn't the worst last thing to see and hear. Probably it was the best, except if it were really Steve. Because he had to make sure he wasn't crying. Bucky wanted to see that smile one more time. That'd be alright, wouldn't it?

"I don't think we're headed for the same place, Stevie." Bucky chuckled lightly.

Steve's expression spoke volumes about his disagreement with that notion, but he finally sat beside Bucky and hunched his small back over as he looked down at Bucky with a light smile and serious eyes. "Then I'll just follow you, Buck. Wherever you go, I'll go to. If you'll wait for me. You're a good person though, so I know we'll be going to the same place."

Bucky laughed, and realized it was a sob. He wanted Steve so badly then it hurt. Bucky wanted to hold him, feel that small, fragile body again, that reminder that he could do something right in his life. He wanted to be that Bucky to that Steve, the one who was strong, and brave, and kept him safe, and warm, and protected that smile. And then Captain America flitted in his mind, and that wasn't so bad either. Because inside, he was still Bucky's Steve, and he still felt like home. _That's it..._Bucky realized with a faint smile. _I just wanna go home._ "Anything good about me came from knowin' you, Stevie. I'm only good for you."

"That's not true." Steve chided lightly, though he smiled fondly and when he reached a hand out to brush a strand of hair from Bucky's forehead, Bucky swore he could feel that small hand on his cheek when he couldn't feel anything else. "You saved me before you even knew me. You're a softy at heart, Bucky Barnes." Steve teased lightly.

"Just you." Bucky murmured. "If I didn't know you...I wouldn't be soft. Nobody ever gave a damn about me till you...anythin' I know about...'bout taking care of someone...bein' loyal..bein' a friend...havin' somethin' to protect...lovin' someone..._family_...it's all been you. You kept me from bein' cold." he admitted. Because it was the last, and finally, the words came to him.

Steve seemed surprised, which was funny, because wasn't he in Bucky's head? Didn't he know everything already? But then Steve's smile grew as he shook his head. "You're such a dummy sometimes, Buck. You're the only reason I was warm in the first place." he poked Bucky's forehead lightly. "Being with you made me feel like a whole person..._just you_." he echoed Bucky's earlier words. "You said I was too dumb to run from a fight, Buck...but really...I just didn't wanna disappoint ya. I wanted you to be proud of me."

Bucky's vision clouded over with tears, and he wasn't sure if he was crying or laughing, or alive or dead anymore, or if this was wishful thinking or the truth and he didn't care. His heart swelled. "I'm always proud of ya, Stevie. My brother is a damn hero. Even before the serum."

Steve's mouth formed an _O_ before he smiled and set his hand on Bucky's chest. "That's funny...cause I always thought the same about you. You were always my hero, bro."

Now Bucky knew he had to be dreaming, but he didn't care. He smiled through his teary vision until he _felt_ something. It started near his hand and then ran through his torso, and soon his whole body was thrumming with a tingling that turned into a searing pain. All of the sudden, it felt like fire even though he was in the frigid snow.

Steve's smile turned sad again, and he slid his hand down into Bucky's remaining hand. And Bucky felt like he could _feel_ it, that small, warm hand in his. A lifeline. Bucky gripped it tight enough to hurt, although in reality his fingers did little more than twitch, and Stevie just smiled. "It's time, huh, Buck?"

"T-Think so." Bucky whispered through the pain, and he gasped as he felt something shift in his stomach and crack. An organ that finally gave out, maybe. He wasn't sure, didn't care to think on it or have the presence of mind to. "Don't leave." Bucky added, and he was desperate not to let that hand go.

Steve bent over then, and he met Bucky's gaze a few inches apart. "We promised, right? Till the end of the line..._and_ _after_...I'm not leavin' ya, even if you are a jerk."

"Punk." Bucky laughed weakly, as a well of gratitude and love welled in him. "It'sa promise, Stevie...till the end of the line and after..."

Steve's smile was like the sun, and all the pain eased right out of him as Steve bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "See ya soon, Buck."

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, only to find that he couldn't speak. There were no words, or lips, no feelings or sight, there wasn't darkness or light. Bucky was, and then he _wasn't_.

...

Eyes opened slowly. Mixed sensations assailed him. Thoughts flitted through his mind, but they lacked substance. There was nothing, everything was blank. Lights were above him, but they were flourescent and hollow. They weren't real light, somehow that innate knowledge occurred to him. That was why he was covered in blackness, because only real light could remove it. And there was no light.

"Steve..." A name bubbled from his lips. He had no knowledge of it. It wasn't intentional, or cognizant. The fact that he had spoken was unknown to him. He remembered nothing, he had no sense of self, and that he existed at all was a vague notion in his mind.

But this time, all the same, the man had spoken-with real words and a voice, and lips that moved at his unbidden will.

This time was no illusion.

And that time, there was no answer.

...

The Winter Soldier sat on a bench in a quiet, ill-used park. His posture was tense and out of place in the quaint area. He had seen the Smithsonian Museum, he had seen the stranger with his face, and he had begun to feel a strange pain in his chest accompanied by flashes and snippets of memories he didn't understand. Were they real? How could he measure a product of the mind? What did it matter? What did it mean?

_"Then finish it, because I'm with you till the end of the line."_

And somewhere, buried deep inside of a hollow, programmed existence, was a spark of light. A life that remained tucked away in a corner of a heart that couldn't erased by time, or by torture. One that a shadow couldn't touch. One that resonated to that man from the bridge, _his friend_.

_"It's a promise, Stevie." _

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Phew, I might go in the corner and cry now. I probably over-indulged in schmoop a bit, but eh. Bucky's lying broken in the snow, slowly dying. In his head, he's not really aware of reality, he thinks he's talking and such, in actuality he's just a broken mess in the snow. He becomes more aware, and he just pours his heart out because it's Steve and it's all that's left and it's the little ray of hope in sunshine in his last minutes of life. It's his **_**brother**_**. Except that he doesn't die, he wakes up without himself, in a cold, grim Hydra lab. Steve would so be his last thoughts though. And it was so heart-wrenching that I had to kind of slightly make it a happy ending. Because Bucky's heart has light after all and he loves Steve forever, aaaaand yeah. Winter Soldier doesn't stand a chance. Reviews are like verbal hugs. Enjoy. With tears in your eyes? ;-; Enjoy!~Witchy~ **


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